Weasley Family Expo
by paien
Summary: Arthur is a man with a passion for Muggles and a plethora of experiments in his collector's shed. Join him as he balances family life between the wars with his enthusiasm for all things Muggle! One shot!


**A/N:** _This is my entry for Round 7 of the QLFC! All relevant information is below. If you're just here to read the story, feel free to skip ahead!_

 _Team: Tutshill Tornados_

 _Position: Beater 1_

 _Round 7 prompt: Write about a witch or wizard trying to combine magic and Muggle technology into one device._

 _Optional prompts:_

 _4\. (dialogue) "How many wizards does it take to make an aeroplane fly?"_

 _7\. (word) confusion_

 _12\. (dialogue) "He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!_

 _Word count: 1814_

* * *

Everyone in Britain's Wizarding community knew that Arthur Weasley loved Muggles. In fact, he adored them and their innovative creations to adapt to non-magical life. He found Muggle devices so utterly fascinating that he had devoted a whole shed to his collection of Muggle artefacts—the contents of which were amassed thanks to his job at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Batteries, plugs, knick knacks, and antiques littered the shelves and floor, and he had even begun dedicating a back corner for his personal experiments.

So far, he'd created an army of sentient nutcrackers (although he'd had to stuff them in a locked drawer when they tried to stage a rebellion), a talking doorknob (with an unsettling fixation on his hair), and a cartwheeling alarm clock that Molly had almost spotted through the window (Arthur made sure to close the curtains from then on). His most recent project was focused on enchanting a charming model aeroplane to fly in patterns—it would be a wonderful addition to four-month-old Ron's room.

Arthur hummed cheerily to himself as he twirled a screwdriver in his hands, leaning back to observe the slightly damaged toy cars laid out on his workbench. Perhaps he could create a custom toy using a combination of their undamaged parts... Absentmindedly, he wiped his brow and cast another Cooling Charm—it was an abnormally sticky and warm autumn evening. A working Muggle fan certainly wouldn't be remiss.

Before he could continue with his work, though, his wife's impatient voice interrupted his thoughts. "Aaarrthuur! It's time for diiiinnner!"

"Coming, dear!" he called back, hastily storing away the screwdriver and toy cars. Molly had been rather prickly lately, although with the mischief that Fred and George got into, he could hardly blame her. Somehow, the two-year-old twins caused more trouble than any of their siblings combined.

* * *

"Hey! That's _mine!_ Give Mr. Laylee back!" Percy cried as Arthur walked into the living room where his sons were playing. Toy soldiers and various props littered the homemade rug.

Bill snorted, waving a worn out teddy bear in the air. "No way! You weren't playing the game right. What kind of name is Mr. Laylee, anyway?"

Percy jumped on his tiptoes, desperately trying to retrieve his beloved toy from the cruel hands of his older brother.

"Throw it over here, Bill!" Charlie waved excitedly from across the room, oblivious to the disapproving presence of his father. Fred and George's enthusiastic claps sounded from their high chairs.

" _What_ is going on here?" Arthur bellowed, causing Bill's aim to falter; Mr. Laylee was catapulted into Percy's red face.

"Percy wouldn't play by the rules!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Bill agreed quickly. "He tried to sell me a box that talked, so I hexed him!"

Arthur frowned sternly, looking Percy over for signs of an injury. "And what did Mummy and Daddy tell you about using magic before you start Hogwarts?"

"Not actually, Daddy!" Bill said in exasperation. "In the game! Me and Charlie were soldiers, and Percy was the farmer. He was supposed to sell us his food!"

Arthur blinked a few times. "Oh, er, alright, then." He patted Percy on the head soothingly and added firmly, "But no more taking each other's toys without permission. Now, let's go find your mother—it's dinnertime."

"It wasn't me, Da," Percy whined quietly. "It was Fred!"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"He made the box talk. I know it was him! He's always doing magic."

But before Arthur could confront the toddler about another case of accidental underage magic, Molly burst into the room, her fiery hair frazzled and her expression panicked. "I heard George crying—what's wrong? Where is he? I swear, I leave you kids alone for one minute to use the loo—"

"George?" Arthur repeated dumbly. "Why, he's right—hang on! They were just here!"

"Oh, no," Molly wailed, tearing frantically through the Burrow. "Where _are_ they?!"

"Now, now, Mollywobbles," Arthur tried to placate his near-hysterical wife, feeling a little dizzy watching her run back and forth across the open doorway of the living room. "If you can hear them, they must be close by."

"Yeah, Mum, we'll find them!" Charlie piped up.

Molly appeared in the doorway again, her hands placed on her hips. "I'll deal with your behavior later, mister! And Arthur—I expect you to spend less time in that shed of yours and more time with your children!" With that, the Weasley matriarch stormed outside to search for the missing twins.

Arthur grimaced to himself and took a deep breath. "Alright, fellas," he rallied, clapping his hands briskly. "Let's go find Fred and George."

With that, he ushered his remaining sons out of the living room, only for them to freeze in place at Molly's irate shriek.

" _HOW_ DID YOU GET ON THE ROOF?!"

Dinner was going to be an uncomfortable affair in the Weasley household that evening.

* * *

"Well, Ronniekins, I think we're on our own tonight," Arthur mused in the shed, tickling his giggling son on the stomach while absently rocking the crib with his foot. "Your siblings were little devils and exhausted your mother before they went to sleep." He yawned. "I think they did me in, too, actually. Why don't you be a lad and nod off soon?"

Ron gurgled happily.

"I think I've got some making up to do, though. Molly's not best pleased with me, is she?" he reflected regretfully as he took out the model aeroplane he'd been working on.

Another gurgle.

"Hey, Ronnie." Arthur picked up the aeroplane and playfully held it just out of Ron's reach. "How many wizards does it take to make an aeroplane fly?"

Ron cooed and pointed to a spot by Arthur's head.

Arthur chuckled to himself, turning around to look at what Ron had indicated. It was one of his old abandoned experiments—an antique Muggle clock with five hands attached in the center. He smiled ruefully. "Right you are, kiddo. Based on that evidence, we'd need a whole army of wizards to make an aeroplane fly."

He reached up to grab the clock and placed it thoughtfully on his workbench. He couldn't even remember what he'd been hoping to accomplish with the now useless antique; perhaps he'd simply been tinkering around.

But it was a shame to let it go to waste—the clock was handcrafted beautifully. In fact, it was just the kind of loving craftsmanship that Molly adored decorating their home with...

"You know, Ron," Arthur murmured, resolutely rolling up his sleeves, "I think you may be onto something."

* * *

 _Clink, clink, clink._

"Do you think Molly will like these clock hands, Ronnie?"

 _Clank, cling._

"Or what about these? She does tend to prefer silver… Here—what do you think, kiddo?"

 _CRASH!_ The cracked remains of the clock hand that Ron had threw against the wall slid pitifully to the floor.

"Ah. Well. I suppose that solves that dilemma, doesn't it?"

* * *

"Okay, Ronnie, what do we usually do in this family? I can't very well fit every possible activity or location on this clock."

"Gaah, grgrgr."

"You're right—'lost' should absolutely be an option."

"Gooo, eeyaa."

"'Time to feed the chickens?' That's not a bad idea. After all, only Percy can be trusted to finish his chores, and he's only five years old!"

An odd combination of burps and giggles erupted from Ron's mouth.

Arthur frowned. "'Mortal peril' seems a little grim."

A loud fart echoed through the shed.

"Fine. Mortal peril it is."

* * *

"Almost finished, Ronnie! Let me just add the proper enchantments to these hands."

Ten minutes of silence passed before Ron gurgled questioningly at his father. A series of whirring noises punctuated by shrill squeaks erupted in reply.

Arthur rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry, kiddo. I think this may be a tad more difficult than I originally thought. I think this is the most complicated project I've taken on so far—I've never tried to put so many precise enchantments on one object. Each hand has got to accurately show each of our locations, after all."

He purposefully tapped each clock hand with his wand, only for an electric shock to travel through his entire body on the final tap.

 _Zzzzzrrttt._

Arthur vigorously shook his head, tugging in resignation at his burnt hair. "Bugger."

* * *

"Aha! I think I've got it."

Ron smiled widely in response to the pleased expression on his father's face.

"That's right, Ronnie. We're done! Now let's get to bed before Molly notices how long we've been gone for. I'm surprised you haven't fallen asleep yet, actually." Arthur stretched and began storing away his tools. "The hands should be working perfectly. See—our hands are pointing to 'home.' Hold on—where's Molly's hand? Traveling? That can't be right…"

"ARTHUR WEASLEY! I OUGHT TO GROUND YOU TOO FOR KEEPING RON OUT THIS LATE!"

"Oh dear," said Arthur. "That doesn't sound good."

Molly forcefully swung the shed door open, narrowing her eyes at the amount of Muggle artefacts littering the area. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing? This is unacceptable! Keeping an infant in this drafty old shed—"

"It's almost 25 degrees, love."

"—not even bothering to tell me where you were—"

"Er, you _were_ asleep, dear."

Molly ignored him. "—and leaving your pregnant wife to wake up alone in the middle of the night!"

A long pause.

" _Pregnant?!_ " Arthur stared in disbelief.

"Yes, pregnant! And rather put out at the moment!"

"Oh, but that's just wonderful!" Arthur exclaimed with delight. "Do you imagine it'll be a girl this time?"

Despite her earlier cross words, Molly smiled widely at the thought of her seventh child. "I've a good feeling about this one, Arthur."

"That's fabulous news, Molly!" He kissed her soundly, before pulling away abruptly. "Oh! But I'll need to add another hand."

His wife furrowed her brow in confusion. "What?"

"Look!" Arthur proudly held the completed clock up for her to inspect. "Now you'll always know where everyone is!"

Molly peered curiously at the clock and promptly burst into tears.

"Mollywobbles?" Arthur questioned cautiously. "It's alright if you don't like it."

"It's lovely!" Molly sobbed loudly.

"Er, alright, if you say so," he placated as best he could with a crying witch in his arms. Thankfully he'd managed to awkwardly bend his arm without Molly noticing so he could place the clock down.

"It's just the hormones," she reassured him finally, wiping at her eyes. "Really, you'd think you'd be rather accustomed to them at this point. Now, let's get the two of you hooligans back inside the house."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," he replied dryly, relieved that his wife was acting more like herself. "Oh! Do you know what the best part about having a girl would be? I could finally find a use for all the Muggle hair accessories in that drawer!"

Molly sighed good-naturedly while Ron clapped gleefully from his crib.


End file.
